Squire writes:

Oh, my G-O-D!
I got no real I.D.
But I say that I got one
to pass through the agencies

But no one really knows
That I like CD's
Like the rapping one's
And the Hip-Hop one's.

And then someone knows
that I got no RID
probably from the agencies
But it's too late!
I passed those stupid agencies!
Into another country-ry-ry-ry...

And when I come home,
I see a little tree,
A little Christmas tree,
Standing all alone,
In my living room,
And then I know,
That my real place is
home-ome-ome.

clearly, it's a poetic and somewhat metaphorical approach to the immigrant experience with an emphasis on the demands of paperwork, addressing the issues of identity and the definition of home in a culturally complex environment. right? or maybe he just wants to be sure we get a tree?